The Man Who Warmed the Northern Irish

EVERYBODY likes Willie," said a friend when William Whitelaw was named Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. "Even the grottiest Irishman should warm to him in time." Big, breezy Whitelaw, who turns 54 this week, brought to his daunting task a large measure of personal charm and warmth. In the words of an admiring aide: "He radiates good will, patience, impartiality, but underneath, he's a very cunning man--it's an ideal mix." If peace is finally achieved in Northern Ireland, the credit will belong largely to the man who, as a Catholic politician recently put it, "comes across like a big Teddy bear"--and charmed the Northern Irish out of their violent ways.

They were prepared to dislike Whitelaw. "It used to be axiomatic in making postings that you never sent a nice officer to an Irish regiment," recalled an M.P. recently during a Commons debate on Ulster. Whitelaw, moreover, was a man of the Establishment who had been to Winchester and Cambridge, had soldiered with honor in the Scots Guards, and had gone on to Parliament. Little known outside the Commons, Whitelaw became the leader of the Tories' liberal wing on almost every issue from Rhodesia to labor relations. He also was influential in persuading Prime Minister Heath to institute direct rule over Ulster--a step strongly opposed by right-wing Tories and their Unionist Party allies.

Embarking on what he privately admitted was a "frightening gamble," Whitelaw set up offices in gargoyled Stormont Castle, and held an exhaustive series of meetings with everyone from Unionist politicians to Catholic housewives whose admiration for the I.R.A. was diminishing under the endless violence. Visitors reported that the Scots-born Whitelaw had at least one Irish trait, "the gift of the gab." He proved it two weeks ago by persuading a party of masked Protestant vigilantes to unmask and be comfortable in his office.

Warned recently that he faced imminent assassination, Whitelaw laughed off the threats. "I enjoy my golf too much to be killed," said the recent (1969-70) captain of St. Andrews' Royal and Ancient Golf Club. Nevertheless, for protection or convenience, Whitelaw customarily uses the R.A.F. for flights between Belfast and London and weekends with his wife Cecilia. He also uses military helicopters for flights around Ireland to visit troops or inspect trouble areas.

Though he had 15,000 troops to call on, the weapon that Whitelaw chose to use was persuasion. "Some of you may think that I have been making too many concessions to this or that group," he told Northern Irishmen recently, "or that I have been seeing more of some people than others; that I have listened too readily to some and not to others; but I can say I have shown that there is on all sides a real demand for peace." Even though some of the grottier Protestants still denigrate him as "Willie Whitewash," moderate Protestants accept him. His concessions to the long-suppressed Catholics have moreover raised his standing high enough that he may yet achieve one of his shorter-term ambitions: walking in peace into one of the Catholic "nogo" areas whose barricades have come to symbolize Catholic fears of British authority.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.